


These are Hard Times for Dreamers

by paradiamond



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Season 3, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So if he could go back, he would probably make a better effort at not falling for Glenn. Though in all honestly, it wasn’t really like he’d had a choice once Glenn had handed him a roll of toilet paper with a smile on his second day in camp, declaring it ‘his share’ and did he need anything else next time? </p><p>By the time they’ve gotten through the farm, and make it well into the winter, and Glenn shoots him that smile, Daryl knows, or finally admits to himself, that he’s well and truly fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These are Hard Times for Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

> A fill the for the prompt 'pining' on the kinkmeme. (: 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

The first time Daryl sees him, he doesn’t think much of it. Glenn wanders into camp with a baseball bat and smile, and Daryl thinks he's ridiculous. Just another straggler, an unlikely survivor of the end of civilization. Merle makes some crack about asians Daryl mostly ignores, and he goes about his business, barely aware of Glenn, just as he’s barely aware of any of the rest of them. 

The first time Glenn makes an impression on Daryl is when he brings back supplies and distributes them among the others, shrugging off the danger he must have faced to get them. The majority of that impression is that he’s clearly a smart enough kid, and brave, but too eager to please. He isn’t hard enough to deal with the world. Hell, he wouldn’t have been hard enough to deal with Daryl’s world before, let alone now, with Merle falling apart and them planning to rob the camp. 

He won’t last, so Daryl doesn’t pay him any mind because there isn’t any point. 

But he does last, not just surviving but _living_ , and Daryl starts paying attention. 

Sometimes, Daryl wishes that he could go back to not caring. To just passing through, using the group that isn’t a family or some shit for security instead of depending on them as much as they do him. 

Because then it wouldn’t matter that T-Dog died, and coaxing Carol’s smile on her bad days wouldn’t be the achievement of his week, and he wouldn’t have to watch Glenn and Maggie live in their happy bubble and hate it. 

He wouldn’t have to feel worry that's like having his insides twisted out over Glenn when he leaves, and then _doesn’t come back._ He wouldn’t have to watch out for him like he’s Daryl’s own flesh and blood, and he wouldn’t have to love his stupid way of making people feel like they’re worth a damn. 

So if he could go back, he would probably make a better effort at not falling for Glenn. Though in all honestly, it wasn’t really like he’d had a choice once Glenn had handed him a roll of toilet paper with a smile on his second day in camp, declaring it ‘his share’ and did he need anything else next time? 

By the time they’ve gotten through the farm, and make it well into the winter, and Glenn shoots him that smile, Daryl knows, or finally admits to himself, that he’s well and truly fucked. 

***

The prison yard is clear, which is the main thing. After months and months of life on the road, Daryl has to resist the urge to grin big and stupid over seeing the group running through the grass, Carol in particular. She smiles, waving to him.

“We haven’t had this much space since we left the farm!” she cries, spinning around.

He nods to her, a warm feeling creeping up in his chest. To his right, Daryl can feel Glenn’s presence like a physical force, radiating heat and contentment. 

He glances over and Glenn turns fully, giving Daryl a friendly smack on the shoulder, leaving his hand there for a few seconds, squeezing lightly. “This is going to be so great. Hershel says we can probably plant here.” 

Daryl hums in agreement, not looking at him or thinking about his hand on his shoulder, employing his general standing policy on dealing with things that can’t be dealt with; don’t. 

Glenn lets go, but stays close, comfortable enough now with Daryl to do so. They've been together for so long most of the group is fine with being close to him. “You ever been to prison?”

Glenn looks startled. “What?” 

“I dunno, I’ve never actually been inside, thought maybe you’d have some insight into layout or somethin’.” He doesn’t really, but it seemed like a good enough reason. He mostly just wants to know more- everything about Glenn's life. 

Glenn turns to him, full on and raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you think I’d have done?”

Daryl raises one right back. “Car theft sound familiar?” 

Glenn stares at him for a second before dissolving into laughter, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Daryl grins, just watching him.

“I didn’t even know you knew about that.” 

Daryl rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’m blind. Bad day or not I still see when brand new red cars show up at camp.” 

“How’d you know it was me though?”

Daryl smirks. “Who else?” 

Glenn smiles wide, and tries to pretend like he doesn’t know what Daryl’s talking about for a few minutes, gesturing wildly, more animated than any of them had probably seen him in a long time before Rick calls him over to help move the cars. 

He walks away, heading across their new lawn, their new home. 

“Hey kid,” Daryl calls out, because he can’t help it. 

“Yeah?” 

“Imma’ start checking the fence, let Rick know?”

“Sure, I’ll come help you once I get finish with the cars,” he offers, his smile genuine, just like Daryl knew he would. 

He nods, and Glenn goes, the light catching his hair as he takes off his hat to readjust it. Daryl looks away, busying himself with actually doing his job and checking the fence instead daydreaming like some dumbass book character waxing poetic about _hair_ for the love of god. 

He stretches, his arms over his head, and if he feels the spot on his shoulder where Glenn touched him more than other places that’s his business. 

***

The prison itself is basically dark, damp, and disgusting. Daryl greatly prefers the yard, but can now recognize the true value in strong walls and the potential for laying down roots. 

It’s like coming back home after being lost in the woods: that sandwich is the best you’ve ever tasted, even if you don’t much like bologna. 

He sets his things up on one of the stair landings, which at this point basically amounts to his crossbow and a bundle of spare clothes, which suits him just fine. Less to keep track of. 

He’s getting ready to disassemble his crossbow and clean it properly, not like he’d been doing on the road, when he sees Glenn spot him and head over, leaving Maggie and Beth behind. 

Daryl definitely does not feel a stab of satisfaction at the image. 

Glenn takes the stairs up to the platform quickly, the sound of metal being struck loud and harsh. Daryl glances up like he just noticed as Glenn swings around to stand in front of him.

“Hey,” he says, bouncing a bit. 

Daryl raises an eyebrow at him. “Hey.” 

Glenn just looks at him, his expression weirdly blank. After a few seconds, Daryl can’t deal with the weirdness. 

“Do y’ need something or-”

“No! I just uh-” 

He looks away, off to the side. Daryl checks to make sure that, yes, he’s looking at the wall. He’s about to ask again when Glenn finally gets it together. 

“I think- I wanted to say that, um-” 

Daryl snorts. Though he had developed some serious survival skills, Glenn occasionally dips back into the social awkwardness Daryl had originally judged him for. “Just spit it out, short round,” he says, throwing in the nickname to remind him that it’s just them. He doesn't like that Glenn feels nervous around him. 

Glenn smiles like he gets it and laughs nervously. “Just don’t hit me for acting like a girl or anything.” 

That gets Daryl smirking. “We’ll see.”

Glenn rolls his eyes. “I just wanted to say that...I’m glad we’re friends now. I...appreciate you for having my back I guess is what I’m trying to say.” He nods, like he’d cleared something up for himself. 

Daryl opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He just stares until Glenn starts laughing nervously. 

“Sorry, I know that’s weird and stuff but I just-”

“Me too.”

Glenn looks up from the floor. “Huh?”

“I’m- glad we’re friends too,” Daryl says, staring down at floor. Speaking slowly and trying to fight down the blood that’s threatening to come up in his face. Glenn laughs again, making a face.

“I just wanted to say it since, you know, we’re here and we’re alive and-”

“I get it,” Daryl says, trying to end the conversation before he says something else. 

Glenn puts his hands up. “I know, feelings are gross, I’m going now.” He shoots Daryl one last smile. “I just wanted it said. You’re one of the closest friends I’ve ever had, man.” 

Daryl nods. “Yeah.” 

He goes, back down to the rest of the group. Daryl just sits, staring down at the crossbow pieces, now suddenly and annoyingly incomprehensible to him.

Frustrated, he gets up and spots Carol in one of the cells close to him, folding laundry and most assuredly not looking in his direction.

“Eavesdrop much?” he calls out, glaring. 

She glances up, all soft eyes and innocence. “Hm?" 

“Yeah, yeah.” He moves to lean on the railing, looking down over the rest of the block.

She comes out of the cell, still holding one of Beth’s shirts. “It’s nice, you know. There’s no need to be embarrassed.” She giggles. “Who knows, maybe he has a crush on you or something.” 

Daryl frowns, watching him disappear into a cell, no doubt following after Maggie. He scoffs, acting offended.

“Somethin’ tells me he’s pretty ok with what he’s got.” And the words don’t come out half as lightly as he intends.

***

There had once been a girl that made Daryl feel like this, back when he was fifteen and skinny and had to make up excuses all the time for why he couldn’t make it to school that day- or that week. 

Karen Michaels. Nowadays he finds himself searching for her name when he wants it, like his old life is melting away. So many details he can’t summon up. 

She’d been casually pretty, in a girl next door kind of way, and Daryl had never been in love before. He’d mostly just publicly ignored her while simultaneously learning everything about her, keeping it all filed away in his head. 

She had only one class with him, third period algebra. He didn’t learn a single thing about math that entire year.

Watching Glenn survey the yard with Hershel feels an awful lot like third period algebra, which is unfortunate, considering he’s supposed to be on watch. It’s been a week since they’d taken the prison, and Daryl still has this problem. 

With an annoyed huff, he makes himself turn in the chair, looking out over a different part of the ground. Whether this _thing_ is taking over his brain or not, he still has a job to do. Really it’s all he has- the best he’s ever had. 

“Knock knock.” 

Daryl turns, making half an effort to not look annoyed at the interruption since it’s Beth and it’s not like she ever did him any wrong. 

“What.” 

Back on the farm, that tone of voice coming from him probably would have sent her running. Now she just quirks a smile and gestures to the sun.

“Um, I’m on watch now?” 

Daryl blinks, caught off guard. Had it really been two hours? He nods, standing. “Right.”

She shoots him an amused look, settling down in the chair and adjusting the height. Daryl turns to go, but she stops him halfway out the door.

“Oh! Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“Glenn wanted to see you for something I think. He was talking about a CDC?” 

Daryl frowns, glancing out towards the yard. No Glenn. “Yeah alright,” he says, internally chastising himself for the lack of attention. 

As he makes his way back to the main block, he can’t help but think back to a different time. _It wasn’t so long ago_ , he supposes, waving to Rick on the far side of the yard. He pauses to make sure the two inmates see him too, and see that he sees them. 

The CDC. 

The past is a different country. He read that in a book once, a long time ago by these day’s standards. The CDC had been one of the best and worst times of this whole damn thing for him, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which had been his brief and explosive moment with Glenn, but he pushes that thought down, refocusing on the present.

He also once read that regret is a bitter pill to swallow. 

He strides into their cell block, glancing around for Glenn, or Maggie, since they can usually be counted on to be near each other. 

“Daryl, hey!” He looks up to see Glenn grinning down at him from the balcony, holding some wad of grey fabric in his arms. 

Daryl raises an eyebrow at him. “You got some reason fer’ callin’ me here?” he asks, picking at the younger man because he can’t help it while starting up the stairs. 

“Yeah,” Glenn says, unbothered at this point by Daryl’s manner of teasing, which is part of the reasons why he continues to do it. “Check it out-” He swings around to meet him halfway, holding the fabric out in front of him. Daryl looks. It’s plain grey sweatpants. 

“Alright,” he drawls, just to be deliberately annoying. 

Glenn rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Ass. Look.” He points to the embroidery on the upper thigh area. _CDC Atlanta._

“How crazy is that?” Glenn asks, clearly excited. “I had no idea we still had these.” 

“Probably because you don’t do yer’ own laundry.” 

Glenn scoffs, making to take the pants away, but Daryl stops him. “I’m just messin’ with yeh kid calm down.” He strokes the logo. “Haven’t seen anyone wearin’ them.”

“Lori was keeping them special I think. We found them when we, you know.”

Daryl nods. When they cleaned out her things after she died. 

“We should keep them,” Glenn says, sounding almost defensive, like Daryl’s going to call him girly or some shit. Sentimental. Which he is, but that isn’t the point. 

“Yeah. We should.” 

Glenn’s answering smile splits his face and makes Daryl want to smile back. 

They say you die two deaths. The first is obvious, the big exit, but the second always struck with Daryl more, made him feel small. The last time someone speaks your name, you are truly gone. 

That night, laying on the cold concrete floor on the prison doesn’t feel so harsh, maybe because he chose it over the springy beds. Maybe it’s just because he’s so tired from the past couple of days, what with the baby and Rick losing it and everything else. 

Either way, he finds himself thinking back on the early days, to the quarry and the CDC. Atlanta in general. Amy, Jacqui, Jim. They’d been stupid, like baby birds trying to fly way too early. It’s like Hershel said the day he fixed Daryl up, it’s a wonder they’ve survived this long. 

A wonder. Like Jenner opening the door or Beth choosing to live. 

He huffs, and reminds himself to pick at Glenn extra tomorrow for letting his sentimentality rub off on him. But not too hard. 

“Kid’s too damn cute fer’ that,” he mutters to himself, sticking his arms behind his head and angling his neck to see the stars through the bars of the window. 

***

He dreams of the CDC, of explosions and chopping away forever at a damn metal door that is never going to open under Daryl’s power. Panic takes over and the clock counts down forever. He’d really never liked cages much. 

Daryl wakes up with a jolt, not screaming or anything like that, just the sudden burst of consciousness after being ripped from the deeper, more dark, parts of sleep.

He scrubs a hand over his face, momentarily disoriented. The floor doesn’t seem comforting anymore, just hard and cold. 

Making sure to be quiet, he gets up and stretches, knowing he won’t sleep anymore tonight. He walks over to the railing, at a loss as to what to do with himself for the next few hours, which is one of his least favorite feelings in the world. Idleness lets the gears in his head grind together unchecked by the comfort of a task to perform. 

He’s just about to go let Rick who’s still on watch, like he has been for hours, know that he’s going out to try to score a deer in the early morning quiet when he hears Judith start to fuss. 

Padding over to her in the ‘nursery’ cell, all wrapped up in blankets in the mail carrier, he leans down and picks her up, settling down on the floor to get comfortable. She glares at him, or at least seems to, and he raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Problem, little miss?” Predictably, she doesn’t answer him, and drops back off to sleep in his arms, apparently just wanting the attention, or maybe the extra warmth. He snorts. 

“Figures.” Daryl shifts, deciding that he might as well get comfortable. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest against the concrete of the wall, letting his mind drift. It’s not exactly the solution to his problem he was looking for, but it’s close enough to focus on not dropping her. 

Thinking back on his dream, he frowns, trying to remember the details, but all he can summon up is a couple of disconnected images of the CDC. Seems to be the theme of his day. 

The sound of someone trying and failing to quietly open the cellblock door catches his attention, and he glances around the doorway of the cell to see Glenn, who is definitely not on watch because Rick is. He goes back to his business, trying to ignore the sound of Maggie following him back into the cell block ten minutes later.

He suppresses a snort. “Subtle.” He glances down at Judith. “You better not turn out that dumb.”

A giggle to his left makes him tense. It’s Maggie, one hand over her mouth. He glares at her, embarrassed to be caught talking to a baby. “What?”

She smiles down at him. “Nothin’, I was just coming to check on Lil’ Asskicker but I guess you’ve got that covered.” 

Daryl makes a face but doesn't respond. Part of him wants to get mad at her, but he really doesn’t have a reason so he just shrugs and turns his attention back to Judith. Maggie squats down next to him, a warm look on her face that Daryl doesn’t like. And knowing that she in no way deserves his annoyance does nothing to relieve it. 

She sits next to him, the sleeve of Glenn’s shirt slipping down her shoulder. Daryl looks away. 

Suddenly bone tired, he stands, startling her. “Take her.” Maggie blinks up at him. 

“Uh-” he grunts and leans down, depositing the sleeping baby into her arms and striding off. He can feel her watching him all the way to the door, her hurt and confusion sticking him in the back. 

The thing is, Maggie is a good person. Decent, never treated him badly like some of the others did at first. Really helpful when they went for Judith’s formula, and she’s not dumb. She’s good for Glenn too, helps to balance him out. That's the problem. 

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he used to think he’d do that for Glenn one day. Back in the quarry, and especially the early days of the farm, he’d sit back and think about how they’d make a good ‘team’, complimenting each other, providing that stability. Daryl would have been Glenn's strength, Glenn would have been Daryl's heart. 

Maybe they could have. 

He makes his way through the hallways, his feet almost taking him up to the guard tower before he stops himself, scowling. “Gotta’ take everything,” he mutters, which isn’t fair to her _at all_ , dropping onto the floor instead. 

Maggie can’t steal what was never Daryl’s in the first place, what he pushed away. 

He’s never going to forget the look on Glenn's face when Daryl threw him out of his room- closed the door in his face at the CDC, too drunk and scared and stupid to reach out and take what he really always wanted. 

Daryl growls and bangs his fist against the wall, hard enough to hurt. “Stupid, stupid.” There’s no point living in the past. He leans back and resolves to just deal with it for good because things are the way that they are and they aren’t so bad. It works for a few days. 

And then it all goes to shit. 

Getting Glenn and Maggie back from Woodbury is not in the least bit easy, and neither is returning to the prison with Merle at his heels. He doesn’t know when the last time he slept, but it was awhile ago, and he’s about ready to drop. He doesn’t let it show though, working through the nagging pull of exhaustion to get done what needs doing, which includes getting rid of the stragglers Carl had let in and getting Merle set up in a semi-permanent room of his own. 

So it basically amounts to a shitty couple of days that culminates with him defending his brother to Glenn’s beaten face, telling him to _get over it_ and walking off. Feeling Glenn’s accusatory gaze burn into the back of his head as goes.

Glenn’s probably right from a moral perspective. He usually is. That’s the balance, like the time he yelled at Daryl for wanting to burn the bodies at the quarry. It wasn’t _right_ because it wasn’t _good_. 

Daryl doesn’t have that much experience with good. There was just never any room for it. Now more than ever. 

What scares him is that Glenn’s a good person in a rotten world and eventually he’ll agree with Daryl on something he shouldn’t. 

***

As Glenn’s face heals and Merle fails to act like anything other than an outsider, putting in no effort, Daryl tries harder and harder to hold everything together. It doesn’t bother him to be held personally responsible for Merle’s behavior while Rick takes his son and the new woman, Michonne on a weapons run. That makes sense, and he’s more than willing to bet on his own gamble. 

What does bother him is the way Glenn is walking on eggshells around him- around _Daryl_ not just Merle, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Obviously he had realized that he and Glenn had become a whole lot closer as time had gone on, especially during the winter. The necessary sharing of body heat to stay awake from the cold, the easy jokes, Daryl had obviously noticed them. Hell, he _valued_ them, because even though Daryl wants so much for there to be more between them, his friendship with Glenn is still the best he’s ever had, Before or After. 

So having it all go away, having _Glenn_ go away, is...difficult. Despite the fact that he really believes that it’s only temporary, that they’ve all adjusted to harder shit before and Glenn can do it again- it’s just hard. Plain and simple. 

Thing is though, Daryl’s a big boy. He can deal with a friend being pissed at him. He has shit to occupy his mind, even if a lot of it is wondering if Rick will even come back because hell if he isn’t the only other friend, or whatever, that Daryl has anymore. So he clears the thoughts by becoming obsessively efficient, cleaning his bow, perfect watch schedule, food rations in their peak of organization, Asskicker attended to. _You’d think with the world gone to hell there’d be more to do._ He thinks, restringing his bow for the second time. 

“Looks like it’s getting pretty beat up.” 

Daryl looks up, surprised to see Glenn standing next to the table he’s working at. Glenn points. “The bow, I mean. It’s looking pretty ready to croak.” 

Daryl doesn’t believe for a second that Glenn came over, and left Maggie, to talk about his bow. So he stares up at him, trying to decide what it is. After a second he realizes that he’s meant to say something, and that he has no idea what it is. 

Glenn knows him though, so after a second of eying him and shifting from foot to foot he sits. He sighs. “Look, I know I haven’t been fair-”

Daryl barks out a laugh that’s half hysterical and Glenn glares at him. Of course, _of course_ Glenn would put this on himself. Daryl pulls himself together. “Nah- it’s not yer fault.”

Glenn glances away. “Well I’m not saying that it is. Because it’s _your_ fault, but...”

Daryl can only stare, that horrible feeling of helplessness mixed with defensiveness for being called out creeping up his spine. Glenn takes a breath, and Daryl hates himself for making him do it, for not being able to find a solution to this shit storm. 

Glenn finally gets it together and fixes him with a fierce look. “I’m an only child.” Daryl nods, he knew this already. “So, I can’t say I really get what you’re going through. Why you...had to do what you did. I don’t have a brother. I only have you, you’re my brother. And Maggie and Rick and the others are _our_ family.”

“Glenn-”

“No. You always do that. Let me finish,” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice. Daryl nods, half wishing that he could go back to the way he was before, because then he could just punch Glenn in the face for being such a pansy and go hunting and that would be it. Fuckin’ _everything_ had to go and change him, make him weak, which is not at all what he expected from the goddam apocalypse. Unfortunately, as much as he hates to admit it, even to himself, what makes him weak also makes him _happy_. Which just figures. 

Glenn’s still talking, so Daryl makes himself listen, though he’d be lying if he says he’s taking much of it in. He knows that Glenn is likely as frustrated by this whole situation as he is, and there’s really not a whole lot left to be said, but he lets Glenn talk himself out anyway. 

When he finishes they just look at each other, nothing resolved, nothing new. After a few more seconds of silence Daryl is tired of it and moves to stand, taking the crossbow with him.

“I’m _trying_ Daryl.” 

He stops, and glances up at him, doing him the basic courtesy of looking at him in the face. “I know, kid.” Because he always does. He's always trying. Trying to make sure everyone has the correct amount of supplies, that Merle gets found, that Maggie is happy, that Daryl is too. 

“Can we-” Daryl breaks off, annoyed with himself. 

Glenn perks up though. “Yeah?”

Daryl glares at the wall. “We good at least? I aint’ askin’ fer Merle, jus’ me.” 

Glenn sighs and runs a hand through his hair, baseball cap long lost, probably decomposing in the field of the farm or something. “I’d like to be. Like I said-”

“Yer’ trying.” 

Glenn holds his eyes for a second before averting them and standing. He offers Daryl a small smile that’s more of a grimace, the bruises on his face making it worse. “I’ve got to go do some stuff.” 

He nods, watching Glenn go. As soon as he clears the gated door Daryl turns, angrily trying to fight down the emotions threatening to come to the surface. Some of it must have shown in his face though, because he catches Carol staring at him from across the block, something like shock written on her face that quickly shifts to contemplation.

_Shit._

He glares and turns away, not too quickly, and makes for the guard tower, the outside one Beth won’t be using for watch. Tries to pretend he doesn’t hear her following him the whole way.

After what seems to be an eternity of walking, they reach it. She closes the door gently, just like she does everything else, and leans against it.

He glares at her. “ _What?_ ” It comes out like acid, burning him more than her.

Carol just looks at him, waiting. Patient.

“Mind yer’ own, woman.”

She doesn’t flinch like she would’ve before, instead raising one delicate eyebrow. “Are we back to that now?”

Daryl glares at her, wanting to be angry, to _stay_ angry, but it’s hard to maintain around her. He knows that the other side of anger is going to be something even worse though, so he switches to glaring at the floor. Carol makes a soft noise, like a cross between a huff and a sigh, and slowly makes her way over to where he’s standing.

She settles next to him, leaning against the desk, and raises her arm, slowly again, to try and touch him. Daryl honestly tries not to tense up- doesn’t quite get there. Tries not to think about the fact that he makes people act this way around him. Makes it necessary, like he’s some kind of wild animal.

“Shh.” He glances over at her, with her hand on his shoulder, just resting there. 

“I didn’t say anythin’.”

“I know, but you think too much. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “People don’ usually accuse me of that too often.”

Silence. More waiting. It’s pointless and it aggravates him. He wonders if he should just leave. Maybe Carol would follow him anyway. He glances over at her, and decides he’s probably right. 

“Does he know?”

Daryl scoffs, though he’s beginning to realize that he can’t talk himself out of her knowing, not at this point. 

_Fuck it_ he thinks, before turning to meet her eyes. 

“No. An’ neither do you.” 

She nods. “Since the quarry?”

Since the fake gangsters pulled him away and into their car. Since Daryl started feeling responsible. Lost his brother. Gained something else. 

“I don’ know. I’m not-” he breaks off, glaring off to the side. He probably doesn’t need to tell her that he’s bad at this. She’s had the pleasure of experiencing his amazing social skills firsthand. “This is just how things are, understand?” 

Carol frowns, just the slightest downturn at the corner of her mouth. Daryl looks away, wondering if the display of negative emotion had been trained out of her by Ed. 

“I understand.” 

More silence, and it’s far too loud. Daryl turns to her to find her already looking back. “Why couldn’t I have been in-” he stops, clears his throat, which is embarrassingly tight. He takes a second. “Why couldn’t it have been you?” 

Carol smiles. “It doesn’t work like that. God knows I wish it did, could have saved myself a whole lotta’ time.” 

“Well it’s _stupid_ ,” he says, trying to make a joke. It’s not like anything ever got resolved for him though talking about it. 

It works. She looks at him, clearly trying to stay serious, her mouth twitching. After a second she starts laughing, Daryl following her, the sound sticking in his throat a bit. 

They stand there, mostly in comfortable silence until Carol has to leave so she can help make the food. She goes, promising him ‘beans, probably’ and Daryl nods, turning his attention to the field that needs to be cleared again, the graves there. He’s not technically on watch, and they probably need him somewhere else, but he stays up there anyway, just looking out on their land. 

In a few minutes, he’ll go stop whatever trouble his brother is causing, go make sure the perimeter is holding, that Asskicker isn’t- whatever. Choking or something. There’s a lot to do, and he wonders not for the first time how Rick manages with the day-to-day of it. 

“Tough son of a bitch,” he murmurs, trying to tell himself that he isn’t waiting for Glenn to come check on him, maybe bring him food, tell a few jokes. 

He’s probably not in a joking mood. 

***

Occasionally, the group does stupid shit despite all their experience and hard work. Sometimes they just have to stop for a bit, be normal, before they can get back to being survivors. Daryl generally doesn’t approve of it, one wrong move in this world will get you killed, but on the day after his brother died, they have their victory against the Governor and Daryl is ready to let go for a while. 

So when the supplies brought back from Woodbury turn out to include _several_ bottles of alcohol, Daryl dives right in with the rest, letting who the fuck ever be responsible for once. 

“Here’s to us!” someone calls out, maybe one of the new people, maybe one of their own, Daryl doesn’t care. He raises his own personal bottle of whiskey that they had mostly all agreed he had earned and cheers right along with them. 

Crazy as it seems, they’re mostly alive. Fucked up as it sounds, he can’t help but be grateful that the only one of them that died had been Andrea, the one whose loss they had already adjusted to. Rick, Carl, Glenn. They made it. So he drinks up, and tries to avoid Michonne’s haunted eyes. 

“Hey- hey Daryl!” He looks up from his bottle to meet Glenn’s glazed over expression and grins. 

“What’s up?” 

Glenn staggers over, lazy in his relief. Daryl toasts him as he approaches and can’t help but notice his muscles gone all lax, his stance totally at ease. 

“Why’re you all the way over here?” Glenn asks, collapsing down on the floor next to him. 

He resists the urge to make a snide comment, too content to be a dick. “Jus’ like it is all.” He isn’t even that far from the general pack, just on the other side of the stairs. So what if nobody can really see him, it just means that the only people bothering him when he’s trying to drink are the ones that seek him out, like Glenn. 

Glenn shrugs, and it’s adorable. He looks like his old self. “Ok. I mean, I totally accept you for the beautiful and unique snowflake that you are-” He gets cut off by Daryl pushing him over and holding him there, his hand hard on his chest. Glenn’s laughing up a storm, one hand weakly pushing back at Daryl without any real fight. The real fighting is over after all. 

They play wrestle for a while, Daryl clearly winning and Glenn clearly letting him anyway. 

“Hey quit it,” Glenn finally says when Daryl has him totally pinned and starts fussing with his hair. So Daryl stops and stares down at him. The moments stretches, and just when Daryl starts to think that maybe he’ll just _do it_ because he beat death again today and he can certainly man up and do this, lay it all out, Maggie comes around the corner and giggles. Like there’s nothing even remotely threatening to her going on. 

Which, Daryl realizes, there isn’t. 

“You two done actin’ like children yet? Rick wants to say something.” 

Daryl gets up like he’s gotten a shock and follows after her, his head swimming with whiskey and embarrassment. True to form, Glenn seems to have missed the whole thing, though Daryl could have _sworn_ that he saw his eyes dilate, like he wanted it, like maybe he wanted Daryl, but he must just be that drunk because he claps Daryl on the back as they make their way back to the rest like it’s all just a big game. 

Rick does his thing, though Daryl doesn’t listen all that much, eying the newcomers. They all seem to be in varying states of freaking the fuck out, which Daryl is glad is so completely not his problem. 

“-and that’s how we get through this.” Rick finishes. One of the new people claps a few times before cutting off with a blush. Daryl glances over and makes a face at Glenn, who grins and turns his face away to keep from laughing out loud. Glenn then goes over and offers New Guy some of his drink because that’s just what he does, being nice all the time. 

Daryl makes to head over there and give the kid a hard time, that nice warm feeling curving up his spine as he moves, but Maggie beats him to it. Which you know, that’s fine because he has other things to do anyway. He diverts his path and heads for the other room instead and catches Carol’s eye. She’s giving him a look of pure sympathy that kills his buzz. 

Daryl glares at her because, really? He’s a grown man. Glenn can do what he wants, and Carol better not blow his cover on this one. 

He leaves, trusting her to follow so that they can have this particular talk, and she does, laying a gentle touch at his elbow. “How are you.” 

He doesn’t answer or bother offering her anything, she doesn’t drink. Instead he nods at the room. “Nice aint’ it?”

“Oh very. I’m a bit concerned about the food situation, but we’ll manage.” She glances over at Rick. “We always do.” 

The lapse into silence, Daryl once again at a loss for words. Should he just tell her to leave it alone? She didn’t actually do anything.

“You didn’t answer me.” 

He glances over at her, thinking that there are times when he misses the old, meeker version of Carol. Because this one just won’t stop. 

“I'm good.” 

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment further. Like she’s daring him to be the one mature enough to keep going. And you know, Daryl had never really been one to back down from dares, and especially not after drinking.

“We survived right? So the fuck with all the emotional shit, I’m good.” He tries to put emphasis in the right places, make sure the message gets across. Carol just smiles at him and ruffles his hair, drawing her fingers through the strands. 

“This is getting long again. Want me to cut it for you later?” Serious Talk Time over then. Daryl shrugs. 

“Whatever, if you want.” She rolls her eyes and walks away, shooting him one last long look.

“I’ll take watch for you, doesn’t seem like you’re at full operating capacity.” 

Daryl nods. It’s possible he should feel bad about that, but he just toasts her with the bottle instead, which probably means she has a point. 

The party rages as the day wears into night. Rick has to stop Daryl from rallying a group that includes pretty much every able bodied group member including Beth to go do Drunk Walker Hunting (his idea), but other than that everything runs smoothly. 

By the time the moon is at it’s peak, most people have settled in for the night or just plain passed out. Daryl sits up in the observation booth in his mellow stage with his feet propped up on the desk, watching the stragglers move about the room below, mostly heading to bed. Glenn catches sight of him and lights up like a Christmas tree, making his way over. 

Daryl hides his sloppy grin with the bottle, drinking its last dregs. He probably should have saved some but fuck it, there’s bound to be some more out there. Maybe he and Glenn can go on a beer run. 

He’s cracking up at the thought when Glenn enters the small room, and shares it when he asks. 

“Dude, you’re like, seriously ridiculous sometimes,” Glenn says, leaning against the desk, next to Daryl’s feet. He nudges him with his boot. 

“Yeah well, yer’ pretty stupid when yer’ drunk too Chinaman.” 

Glenn smiles, wider than he would under normal conditions. “Haven’t called me that in a while.” 

“Yeah, well.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, just looking out through the glass and enjoying each other’s company. These are the moments Daryl really lives for, the quiet ones. 

After a bit though, because he’s him, Glenn giggles, sounding like his old self again. Daryl turns to him. “Crackin’ yerself up now?”

“Nah- I was just thinking about stuff.” 

“Really now,” Daryl drawls and Glenn turns and sticks his tongue out at him, a movement so childish that Daryl wants to reach out a grab it just to match him. 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Glenn gripes. “You know, near death experiences and all that- well you know.”

Daryl nods. They all do. “They make you think,” Glenn continues, unabashed in his drunkenness. “About the past, the shit that mattered then that doesn’t now. I was scared of you, you know. At the beginning. You were the tough guy all-”

“Hey, I’m still the tough guy an’ don’t you forget it,” Daryl interrupts, poking Glenn in the chest and hoping to distract him because this is getting into dangerous territory. 

Glenn isn’t dissuaded though, batting away his hand in a casual way he would never had managed eight months prior. “Yeah, yeah, you’re always going to be the strongest and best Daryl.” 

And hell if that doesn’t just light a fire under Daryl’s skin. He scoffs, raising the now empty bottle to his lips to cover it and trying to decide if he’s imagining the way Glenn’s eyes follow the motion. His eyes certainly track the sight of Glenn licking his lips. 

“You know,” Glenn says, his voice less light now. “I was thinking about the early days a lot recently, what with all the potential death and everything,” Daryl grunts, not meeting his eyes. Glenn continues. “Remember that night at the CDC? First time we all drank together to celebrate.” 

There it is. Daryl clears his throat, but his voice still comes out rough. “Sure.” 

“I never did apologize for jumping you did I?” Glenn laughs, his voice taking on a harsh, nervous edge. “Like I said, I was scared of you-”

Daryl cuts him off by kissing him, just seals his chapped lips right over the other man’s and goes for it. Glenn lets out a surprised noise, his hands raising to Daryl’s chest, like he’s going to push him away, but he doesn’t. Winds up curling his fingers into the fabric and _pulling_ and hell if it isn’t the sweetest thing Daryl’s ever felt. 

He sucks on Glenn’s bottom lip until he groans and opens his mouth, effectively granting Daryl entrance. Their fight for dominance, which Daryl obviously wins, leaves them both out of air, and Daryl has to finally break away. Glenn immediately buries his face in Daryl’s neck, and he can feel how red his face must be to be so hot. 

Through the haze he’s currently operating in, Daryl has a stark moment of clarity telling him that he just made a mistake. Glenn shifts in his arms, breathing hard, and Daryl pushes him away. They eye each other in silence for a few moments before Daryl gets his shit together enough to look away. 

It’s like breaking a spell. Glenn huffs of what sounds like a cross between a hysterical laugh and a sob. “Uh- so I,”

“We’re even.”

Glenn blinks at him, eyes blown wide. “What?”

“I said, we’re even. So you don’t have to be concerned about jumpin’ me at the CDC.”

It’s a piss poor excuse, and they both know it. But there have been times when Daryl has seen Glenn take real, legitimate danger over awkwardness, and he doesn’t fail him today.

“Right! Yeah, that makes, uh, sense so I, uh- better go? Should probably find Mag- anyway. Right.” His hands scrambling to fix his already messed up shirt. “I- this was uh, I thought it was hilarious!” Glenn says, not at all convincingly. 

“Good fer you.” Daryl sets the bottle down and walks out, trying not to think. He needs to go to sleep. 

And maybe just not wake up. 

***

Luckily for Daryl, the next few days are so busy with all the arrangements for the new folks and the repairs they barely have time to stop and catch their breath, let alone confront each other over what may or may not have happened on celebration night. Daryl is personally hoping to hear Glenn laughing with the others about how he completely blacked out and can’t remember anything.

Judging from the looks he’s getting when Glenn thinks he’s not paying attention though, he doubts it. 

“You with me Dixon?” He blinks and focuses back on Michonne, holding up her half of the damaged fencing and giving him a severely unimpressed look. Daryl grunts and gets back to work, reminding himself not to drift off again. 

They continue securing the fence, working mostly in silence, which Daryl appreciates. He doesn’t know her all that well yet, but Michonne seems like the type of person who saves her words for when she really has something to say. 

The thing is though, when she does, she really gets the point across. 

“So I hear Glenn and Maggie are getting married.”

Daryl nearly stabs himself in the hand with the multi tool. He’d known of course, but really hadn’t expected to hear it from her. 

“ _So?_ ” he demands, then reconsiders his tone. “Good fer’ them, what’s yer’ point?” he asks, eyes trained ahead.

She just watches him passively, still holding up the fence. “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him.” 

He freezes, grinding his teeth. Stupid women and their stupid intuition. 

Daryl just angrily finishes up the last part of the fence and walks away, not about to have a heart to heart with anyone about this, let alone someone he barely knows. 

“Dixon.” 

He turns, hands clenched and glares at her. “Look woman-”

Michonne raises a gloved hand, and for some reason he falls silent. “Trust me on this. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

Daryl glares at her as she walks in the other direction, out towards the fields and wants to scream at her, rage that it’s already too late, has been since they hit that farm and can’t she just mind her own goddamn business? 

He takes a swing at the wooden barricade instead, getting splinters stuck in his knuckles. Michonne doesn’t turn, she isn’t afraid of him. Daryl has the feeling that she isn’t scared of anything anymore, now that she’s lost _her_. The thought sobers him, and he straightens up. Maybe she’s right. He doesn’t have Glenn, but he’s alive at least. Happy. 

Clenching his hand around the pain, he squints up at the sun and figures that its about time for his watch. 

Rick nods to him as he passes through the cell block, and Carol smiles. Daryl takes stock of them both, glances around the room at all the new people they have, and makes the effort to smile back at her. 

Glenn is in the guard tower, finishing up his watch and looks so startled when Daryl walks in he wants to laugh. 

“I- uh.” Glenn eyes are comically wide. 

Daryl just sets himself down in the chair next to him. “It’s my watch.” 

Glenn jumps up. “Right. Ok yeah so, I’ll just go now.” He scrambles up, nearly tripping over the chair leg in his haste. Daryl just rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the yard where it’s supposed to be. 

He fights down the familiar feeling of regret creeping up his spine. Makes himself think of something other than what he would do if he could have a do over with Glenn, go back to the CDC. There are more important things to things to think about now. 

The graves catch him attention, crosses stark white against the rest of the landscape. In all the chaos, they hadn’t ever gotten around to taking down the one for Carol until a few days ago, but when Daryl went down to do it he saw that someone had relabeled it ‘Sophia’. 

There’s actually a lot in Daryl’s life he wishes he could do over. 

Glenn comes back about ten minutes later. Daryl strongly suspects that he never made it down the stairs, just stood there like an idiot trying to work up the courage to talk to his friend. 

“You forget somethin’?” he calls out, not turning around. Glenn is standing behind him, breathing hard like he’d been running. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Glenn asks, or demands, really. 

Daryl turns then, surprised. “What?” Glenn’s face is red, and he has his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Daryl watches him close his eyes and take a deep breath. Let it out. 

“You know I- I really liked you back- you know, before. At the first camp. And you just-” Glenn breaks off, turning to glare out the window. "I just- what the hell Daryl?” He roughly swipes a hand over his face, glaring and Daryl doesn’t know what to do. 

“Kid-”

“No!” Glenn yells. “No. I’m not a kid, and I’m not your...whatever. I’m your friend and I could have been- I _wanted_ -” he breaks off again, just glaring off to the side at nothing. 

Daryl just sits in silence, too shocked and pissed at himself and _everything_ to do anything else. Glenn looks down at the floor, then up to Daryl’s face. 

“Why now, Daryl? Why _now_ , and not back at the- the CDC, or-” 

“Shut up,” Daryl says, his voice rough. 

Glenn laughs, and it’s a harsh sound. They fall back into silence and Daryl just wants it over with, wants it all out in the open so he can just stop. 

Glenn reaches around to the back of his head, a gesture left over from an age ago when he never took that stupid hat off. “Maggie and me-”

“I know.” 

“Do you? Because you seem to think that- I don’t know Daryl, what? What the hell was the other night?” he yells, his voice getting all high the way it does when he’s angry, or frustrated. 

“It wasn’t anything-”

“I don’t believe you!”. 

Daryl stands, noticing how Glenn doesn’t back away now, just stands his ground and glares. He gets right up in Glenn’s face, taking comfort in the anger boiling in his blood. “Fine. It wasn’t nothing. _Happy?_ ” He shouts, trying not to care about the effect this seems to be having on the other man. “Why the hell did ya’ come up here anyway? To yell at me fer’ somethin’ I can’t even help? Fuck you,” he spits out, the words turing venomous at the end.

Glenn blinking rapidly, clearly taken off guard. He makes an abortive gesture, half reaching for Daryl but puts a hand over his face instead. All the anger seems to drain out of him, like it always does. Daryl takes a step back, face burning. 

“Daryl,” Glenn says, uncovering his face. His eyes are sad, and it makes Daryl’s hands twitch to go over and do...something. Anything. He thinks about what Michonne said, that maybe he should just go ahead at this point and say that out loud, but he realizes looking at Glenn’s face that he already knows. 

They stand there in silence for god only knows how long, just looking at each other. Finally Glenn looks away. 

“I just- I can’t do this. Sorry,” Glenn says, and turns around to walk out. Daryl just watches him go, suddenly very tired. He doesn’t stop him. 

He sits back down to finish watch instead and lets the sound of Glenn pulling the barred door down the stairs a little too harshly be comforting. Daryl shifts in his seat, wondering what he should be feeling. If there’s any right way to do this. 

He catches movement in his side vision and turns, but it’s only Maggie holding Judith, wandering out to sit on the picnic table, probably to catch the sun. She looks up and spots him, raising a hand to wave. He nods back, and she smiles, turning away. 

Daryl watches her intermittently, wondering why he doesn’t feel the guilty desire to shoot her like he sometimes does when things get bad or Glenn fights with him. He doesn’t even know if Glenn will speak to him again after this. 

The sun starts to go down, but Michonne stays where she is long after the others go back in, wandering up and down the yard like a feral thing. Daryl watches her and thinks that actually, he does know. He would be selfish to ask for anything else, especially considering how lucky he already is. 

When his parents used to fight, back in the days when they actually tried to work things out at all, his mother used to yell that if his father really loved her, then he’d want her to be happy no matter what and not just be _his_. 

Well Daryl loves Glenn, he really does. 

And it’s enough.


End file.
